


When You Were Young

by SaxuallyActive



Series: Buyout Blues [2]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxuallyActive/pseuds/SaxuallyActive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny rents him and Claude ice time, and Claude isn't in a good mental state. (First person narrative)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> You sit there in your heartache  
> Waiting on some beautiful boy to  
> To save you from your old ways

_Circa September 4_

Have you ever been lost before?

Have you ever felt like a piece of your heart was missing, a piece removed by a slow, violent force and shook you to the core? Have you ever felt the sting and ache of such a thing?

It feels like it’s been months since I last skated with him, and I’m shaking so bad I can’t tie my skates. I tie them once, but I stand up and my ankles wobble just as much as my trembling hands.

I’m not sure how he managed to rent out ice time for almost an hour and a half—I feel like he dropped a pretty penny just to skate with me.

I’m making sure my gear is all set. I don’t want to look like an idiot. Even though I probably will. Before I know it, I’m standing near the bench, the very tips of my blades peeking out onto the ice from the plastic flooring behind the bench. I take a step out and glide on the ice. He’s over by the goal, picking out pucks with his stick.

"Danny?"

He turns around. He has dark circles hanging on his eyes. He smiles and skates over to me for a hug.

"It feels like forever, huh?" Danny tells me, nearly squeezing me in a tight embrace.

"Yeah, yeah. It has." I let my best friend go and he picks the last two or three pucks out of the goal. I take a lap or two to warm up my muscles as Danny skates around in small circles in front of the goal, obviously waiting on me.

"Claude, that’s been almost three laps. What are you doing, training for the Boston Marathon?"

"Maybe," I chirp back, skating towards Danny and getting in his face. “You wanna race, old man?"

Danny cross checks me playfully, and I flail backwards. His little smile spreads across his face. It’s always good to see him happy. I skate back up to him and start chirping him in French non-sense. Eventually, we’re just standing there, speaking French jibberish, our visors pressed together. I stop talking, and he stops talking. We stand there, both breathing heavily in the sweet silence of the empty rink.

I start laughing. No, more like a soft giggle.

“What?” Danny asks, skating back a little bit.

“Nothing, nothing.” I fib. “I love being in your presence. It’s relaxing.”

Danny smiles again and I skate past him, bumping his shoulder with my own shoulder. He turns around and gently pushes me along. I turn my head back and smile back at him as I retrieve a couple of pucks.

“Danny, don’t cut your flow again.” I randomly say as Danny takes a shot.

“Why’s that?” He asks, raising a brow.

“You look funny with short ass hair.” I reply, skating up and shooting on the empty goal.

“So do you,” Danny says back to me as he takes another lap. “You look good with longer hair. But not Patrick Kane hair.”

“Dude, that’s a mullet,” I kneel down to stretch out a stiff muscle. “I’m not a mullet man.”

Danny skates up to me and snows me. A clump of ice sticks to my visor. It slowly falls off of my visor and I glare at Danny.

“The older your sons get, the younger you get.” I snap. “You’re such a child.”

Danny bends over and looks at me, grinning. That little shit.

I look into his eyes and I get sick to my stomach. What the hell will I do without him? When I need a random three a.m. talk, who’s going to pick up? Will he even be in the same fucking time zone? Who’s going to drag my drunk ass home? Who’s going to be my best friend?

I find my face in my gloves, and my helmet on the ice. My fat ass is sitting on the ice and I can hear Danny trying to talk to me. I don’t know what to do.

“I’m so lost without you.” I finally say, tossing my gloves to the ice. Danny sits down across from me and takes off his helmet and gloves. All the happiness from his face has faded, and he’s just looking at me.

“I should be the one upset here, Claude.” This shit sounds like a bad high school break up. “But I understand. I don’t know what the kids will do without you or Sean around. Or even the rest of the team.”

“How are they doing?” I ask, already knowing the answer from the way his eyes flick around.

“Pretty shitty.” He replies, pawing at the ice with his pink fingers. “It’s a lot of nervousness and fear, but I’m getting them through it. It’ll be okay. They’re my kids after all.” He smiles, there it is.

“I really hope you stay close.” I pick at the hem on my shorts.

“Yeah,” Danny laughs. “Don’t hit me too hard when we play against each other, okay?

“Alright, alright.” I say, combing my hair back. This makes me feel a little better. At least I can see him _sometimes._ I just hope it’s nowhere outside of the conference.

“How’s everyone dealing with Ilya being bought out?” Danny says.

“It’s just…odd. Weirdly quiet. Kinda like how it was with you.” I pull out a thread. “No one is talking about it. Steve looks scared as hell, but I’ve got faith in him.”

“Fucking reporters won’t leave me alone.” I look up from picking at my shorts. Danny’s sitting with his legs open, and he’s kinda hunched over, playing with his fingers. He looks up at me and finishes his thought. “I already did a couple interviews. Bullshitted it.”

“I read those.” I spew out.

“Yeah.”

“He was just abused by everyone, ya know?” I put my hands on my knees. I sniffle. “Hopefully he’ll be happy wherever he goes.”

“Yeah.”

Danny just gets really quiet. He puts on his gloves and helmet and skates around again.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about it?” I call out, watching Danny take a sprint. He leaves my question hanging in the air for a moment.

He skates over, breathing hard. “Yeah, yeah. It’s so weird. I’m past denying it, I’m trying to move on and discover what the world has to offer, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You talk to anyone?” I stand up and skate around, getting my muscles warm.

He shakes his head. “My close relatives a little bit. But I’ve just been trying to plan out my life ahead.”

Suddenly Danny gets really sad again, like the day I visited him in his home after he was bought out. I watch his face, the way his warm breath escapes the gap his lips have created. He’s thinking. That’s what he’s doing.

I’m just watching him circle around.

“Danny.”

His head turns to me.

“You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s fine. Things just…changed a bit.”

“Yeah.” Danny replies. He’s not fooling me.

“C’mon, let’s skate.” I skate up to him and check him gently. This jolts him back to life. Suddenly, he’s darting around the rink, playfully shooting pucks at me. We’re chasing each other. He brings up a _“One time…when we were drunk…”_ story and we’re lying on centre ice, making snow angels.

I finally see the young Danny again.

And it’s absolutely astonishing. He’s like that perfect sunset you see on vacation—it’s so breath-taking and beautiful that you don’t have time to take a picture before it’s gone.


End file.
